Kate Hoffmann - Ian

“Yes. Sascha Duroy is here and Marisol Arantes. Marisol was in the library and I’m not sure where Sascha is.”

“Let me check around first,” he said, taking the phone from her hand. “Why don’t you wait out front, just for your own safety. When I find the other two ladies, I’ll send them out. And once the house is clear, I’ll tell the security company to turn off the alarm.”

“Tell them the power went off and that’s what set off the alarm. There aren’t any burglars.”

Ian waited until Cheryl Templeton was outside, then tried the library door, but found it locked. Cursing, he rapped sharply. “Marisol!” He knocked again. “Marisol, let me in.”

A moment later, the door swung open. She reached out and grabbed him, then dragged him inside. “What are you doing here?”

“The question is, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered. “Did anyone see you come in? How did you get in the house? Where is Mrs. Templeton?”

“Mrs. Templeton let me in. She’s under the impression I’m responding to their security alert. I don’t think she realized I’m not the Newport police.”

Marisol hurried back to the painting on the wall, grasping the frame as she tried to lift it off the hook. “You could give me a hand here. I don’t have much time. Did you lock the door behind you?”

Ian grabbed his handcuffs and snapped one side on her left wrist, then reached across and caught her right. She didn’t realize what he was doing until she couldn’t move her arms.

“This is no time for games!” she cried above the alarm “Take these things off me.”

“Not until you look me in the eye and tell me what you’re really doing here. I know the truth, Marisol.”

“Of course you do. I told you.”

He grabbed her hands and forced her to face him, looking deeply into her eyes, watching the emotions play across her expression. She looked frightened and frantic. “The painting on the wall is the real one,” he said.

Her eyes went wide and she gasped. In that moment, Ian knew she had no knowledge of what was really going on. “But it can’t be. How do you know?”

“I took the one hidden under my bed to an expert this morning. He verified it was a forgery. He knew Emory Colter. He was sure, Marisol. You were going to replace the real painting with the fake.”

She fell back in the chair as the revelation sank in. “And then I was going to give David the fake. But it would have been the real painting. And I would have never known.” She paused. “Why did you handcuff me?”

“Because I wasn’t sure whether you knew or not.”

“Of course I didn’t know. How could you think-” She paused, anger flashing in her eyes. “Get me out of these.”

He unlocked the cuffs. “Straighten things up in here. I’m going to get the alarm switched off. Where is Sascha?”

“In the bathroom. Blowing out the electricity.”

“Can you do this?”

Marisol nodded. “Just go.”

Ian turned for the door, holding the phone up to his ear. “This is Police Captain Ian Quinn from the Bonnett Harbor Police Department. I’m a guest here at Mrs. Templeton’s. My badge number is 743. I’m checking the house now.”

He made a cursory search of the mansion, knowing there weren’t any burglars. He found Sascha standing outside the powder room beneath the stairs, water dripping from her oversize handbag. “I think you better go out front and wait for me.”

She nodded, then brushed by him, avoiding his gaze. He walked through the first floor of the house, then peeked back inside the library. Marisol was standing next to the fireplace, her painting propped up against the mahogany desk.

“All set?”

Marisol nodded, joining him at the library door. “Thank you,” she murmured.

He took her hand and led her outside. “The house is clear,” Ian said into the phone. A few moments later, the alarm switched off, leaving Ian with ringing ears.

“Oh, thank you,” Mrs. Templeton said. “I’m so glad you came.” She frowned. “How did you get here so quickly? The alarm just went off a few seconds before you arrived.”

“I actually came to help Marisol,” he said. “But I got delayed. I understand she has a gift for you.”

Cheryl Templeton clapped her hands. “Yes. I can hardly wait. Can we see it?”

“Maybe we should get the power turned on first?” Ian suggested.

“Oh, I put the gardener on that task.” She grabbed Sascha by the arm, then caught Marisol’s hand. “Are we ready? Can I see it now? Come along, let’s go.”

Ian followed the trio back inside the house and waited at the library door. Cheryl Templeton covered her eyes as Sascha led her inside and Marisol stood next to her painting. She nodded at Ian and he quickly moved to the crate, grabbing it and taking it out the door while Mrs. Templeton still had her eyes covered.

“Are you ready?” Marisol asked as Ian closed the door behind him.

He carried the crate to Sascha’s car and slid it into the back. As he slammed the hatch, Ian sighed, satisfied that he’d done all he could to keep Marisol and her father out of jail-for now. But there was still one wild card in this whole mess and that was David Barnett.

Barnett was short a painting and as long as he believed Marisol had the Colter, he wouldn’t leave her alone. Since Ian didn’t have a reason to arrest him, something else had to be done. But what?

Ian glanced up as Marisol and Sascha hurried out of the house, offering their apologies for such a hasty exit. Cheryl Templeton followed after them, imploring everyone to stay for dinner. But to Ian’s relief, the invitation was graciously refused.

Sascha got into the Volvo and Marisol grabbed for the passenger’s door, but Ian took her elbow and steered her toward the Mustang. “You’re coming with me,” he said.

“I-I should go with Sascha. She has the painting.”

Ian shook his head. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again until we’ve decided what to do with that damned painting.”

Marisol slid into the Mustang and Ian hurried around to the driver’s side. They followed Sascha down the driveway and once out of sight of the house, he glanced over at Marisol.

She sent him a weak smile. “Sorry?”

Ian laughed. “Sorry? Do you realize what would have happened had you actually made that switch? That was theft, Marisol. You could have ended up in prison for a very long time.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ian held up his hand. Right now, he wasn’t interested in explanations. This certainly wasn’t what he was taught at the police academy, nor had his ten years of job experience prepared him to dance along the edges of the law as he had tonight.

The only consolation was that, for the moment, Marisol was on the right side of the law-his side.

MARISOL STOOD BENEATH the shower in Ian’s bathroom, hot water pouring over her head, washing away the last of the tension that had plagued her for days.

After they’d left the Templetons’, they’d all met up at Ian’s house, returning the painting to the hiding place beneath his bed. She’d been shaken by how close she’d come to committing a real crime and furious at how she’d nearly been duped into giving David the real painting. But Ian had poured her a glass of wine, and for the next hour, they’d sat in his backyard and talked, the conversation slowly calming her.

Ian had made it clear what he thought needed to be done. The forgery ought to be destroyed and David Barnett hung out to dry. But Marisol insisted on keeping the painting, knowing that David would never let the matter rest until he had something to sell to his collector.

Marisol reached for the soap, then felt Ian’s hands on her waist. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, smiling back at him.

“I thought you might need some help,” he said. Ian reached up and gently massaged her shoulders.

She turned and faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ve always liked you naked,” she teased, “but naked and wet is even nicer.”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Marisol nodded. She hadn’t told Ian about her plans to give the painting to David. Technically, that action would probably put her on the wrong side of the law again, but she didn’t care. She was simply giving the painting back to the man who paid for it.

“I’m going to sleep so well tonight,” she said.

“You’ll need your rest,” Ian said. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“We’re sleeping in tomorrow,” she said. “It’s Saturday.”

“We have business down at the station,” Ian said, running his fingers through her wet hair.

Marisol frowned. “What business?”

“With the FBI. I’m going to call them in to deal with David Barnett.”

Marisol gasped. “What? You can’t do that. I’m going to give him the painting and he’s going to leave me and my father alone.”

“David Barnett is a criminal,” Ian said. “I did a little checking and Barnett is under investigation. This isn’t the first piece of artwork he’s tried to pass off as an original. It’s time he was stopped and we have the opportunity to do that.”

Marisol shook her head, then stepped out of the shower. How dare he make a decision like this without consulting her? He had no right, even if he was the police chief of Bonnett Harbor. This was her father’s life they were talking about, not some faceless criminal who deserved jail time.

She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, her hair dripping water on the floor. “No,” she said as he followed her out of the shower. “I’m not going to do it. When they find out my father made that forgery, they’ll arrest him again.”

Ian grabbed her arms and met her gaze. “If you help them, you can make a deal for your father,” he said. “As long as we stop Barnett from selling that painting, then what your father did was a copyright violation at best. He’ll get a slap on the wrist and nothing more. But if Barnett sells that painting, then your father is part of the conspiracy. Do you understand?”